


the smell of leather and dog fur,

by emersen_rose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aromantic Peter Pettigrew, Asexual Peter Pettigrew, Diary/Journal, F/M, M/M, NONE OF THEM DIE BECAUSE I CANT DO THAT TO MY BABIES, POV Remus Lupin, jily, lots of firewhiskey, sirius is so dramatic, weird love triangle thing, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6870883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emersen_rose/pseuds/emersen_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look in Remus Lupin's journals.<br/>---<br/>"Have you ever seen the full moon, Sirius? Is it beautiful? Does it ever get old?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
OPENING STATEMENTS: An In-Depth Character Analysis of Myself and My Very Few Friends.

 

MYSELF: I can speak fluent Yiddish. It took the hat seventy-nine seconds to figure out if I would be a Ravenclaw or a Gryffindor, not like I was counting or anything. I may be a boy but I still have "that time of the month." I've always been a bit lanky and small, though I wish I was taller. My handwriting, as Potter so eloquently put it, is "gayer than a mime with good hair singing Cher on a rainbow unicycle," so that gives you a hint on my sexuality. Not that anyone knows. No one can know. I imagine myself growing old alone, with four dogs living alongside me, and everyone just spreading rumors that there was just "the one that got away." It's 1972- being gay is weird.

 

PETER PETTIGREW: is adorable. I believe that he will be forever be doomed to be short. His corkscrew curls are fashioned into a sad attempt of a mullet, and he seems disgusted by all things physical in a relationship. I feel that this will carry on into his adulthood, his aromanticness or asexuality, and he will only love someone platonically. He's tiny, with an unfitting pudgy waist to accentuate his mouselike features (puffy but angular cheeks, squinty and watery blue eyes, and a turned up button nose that is always pinkish in hue), which just makes me want to give him a major hug.

 

JAMES POTTER: He is a self-proclaimed pretty-boy, and though his popularity guarantees him multiple girls swooning in his presence, he firmly believes that Lilian Evans, an audaciously beautiful redhead with a personality as fiery as her long hair, is the girl for him. He may be attractive, but Lily is most certainly out of his league. Poor old chap. He's been hopelessly in love with her since he saw her from our train car's window ("Who is that?" He breathed dreamily, staring at the young girl who seemed to pointedly ignore him from the platform).

 

SIRIUS BLACK: Handsome, charming, cunning- you name a good quality (that isn't humble, relaxed, or abstinent) and Sirius can act that way with flying colors. Let's not forget that adjectives such as dramatic, vain, diva-like, and childish can also easily be expressed by the bloody lunatic. He reminds me of one of those show-poodles, endlessly primping his fantastic black hair and acting as aristocratic as his family when looking at a first glance. That's just an act though, I'm sure, because he acts like a lapdog around me, invading my personal space, chatting with me incessantly at a pace no one can understands except for yours truly, and with a bright energy that is only diminished in the morning. Inside of the purebreed, I see a mutt (which is kind of literal, because he refuses to act like his pureblooded family, for that lot acts appallingly snobbish and stuffy).  
These idiots are my friends, believe it or not. I'm shocked we haven't ripped each other's hairs out yet. But we're like brothers, and I don't think anything will ever change that.


	2. Chapter 2

  
DATE: September the First, 1972.  
YEAR: Second Year.  
LOCATION: Train to Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
SUBJECT: Hijacking the Food Cart.

 

Four subjects, including myself, are empty pocketed, hungry beyond belief.

 

REMUS LUPIN (yours truly): There was a full moon last night, and I had already eaten a full meal. As if that stops me from being hungry. I hate the fact that being a monster has carried into my human life as well.

 

PETER PETTIGREW: His excitement- or nervousness, it cannot be decided- has prevented him from eating a sufficient breakfast. Now that he is at ease with his fellow dorm mates, the growling of his stomach has become far more prominent. I can hear it's roaring, but it seems that to others, it is a mere whisper.

 

JAMES POTTER: Peter's nervousness would never carry on to the ever-so-gallant James Potter. He's already whined to me thrice about his measly bowl of cereal and bacon- though I am well aware of the fact that he is trying to get a leaner figure to snatch the attention of Lily Evans, the fellow Gryffindor he has been infatuated with since he laid his hazel eyes on her.

 

SIRIUS BLACK: He is gaunt, as always. His grey eyes are like limpid tears (AN: See what I did there?), and I immediately noticed that he'd probably eaten table scraps or less for the entire summer break. His black hair has lost some sheen, and a pang of something (I don't know, guilt? Anger? Concern? Protectiveness?) hits my chest every time I give him a second (or third or fourth or fifth) glance. It hurts not being able to help a friend. I've been in need and there is nothing any of our quartet can do about it.

 

THE PLAN: This will be a formulation of many steps.

 

We will split into pairs-one pair will distract the lady pushing the cart along, and the other will snatch the food we need and run.

 

Peter and I will be in charge of the candy thievery itself- he has the nose to sniff around for the best snacks, and I have the ability to remain quiet, so we will be a pair.

 

Sirius and James will be in charge of the distraction. I was thinking that James could get under his cloak and tap the cart woman from behind, beckon Sirius underneath it, and confuse the hell out of her. This will continue until she decides to investigate and/or becomes incapacitated by...I don't know-a frying pan to the head? That may be too violent.

 

THE REACTIONS/EDITATIONS

 

PETER PETTIGREW has asked to roll the entire cart away, for, and I quote his exact words, "Every sweet has equivalent greatness." Our agreement was unanimous, but I find myself rather disliking many candies that aren't chocolate-flavored.

 

JAMES POTTER is completely on board with the entire plan, but insists that we stop at his "Lily Pad's" train car first. None of us agreed to that part, but Sirius suggested we'd go there afterwards, to smash a chocolate frog on Severus's "greasy, good-for-nothing, disgusting, shameful black hair" (as eloquently put by Sirius). I was the only one to disagree with that, for it was a waste of a perfectly good chocolate frog.

 

SIRIUS BLACK just said "FUCK YES, LET'S DO THIS FUCKIN' SHIT MAN!" And I cannot help but amusedly agree with his antics.

 

THE OCCURRENCES

 

REMUS LUPIN (yet again, yours truly): was completely in line with the plan. I wasn't the one at fault here. I will pointedly glare at James for that, although it's hard to be mad for the poor soul after what Lily said to him.

 

PETER PETTIGREW: was also completely in line. He has made it out of this train wreck (not literally, thank god. I don't want to be responsible for the deaths of innocent Hogwarts attenders.) detention-free, that bugger. I'll pretend I didn't notice the licorice wands and Bertie Bott's underneath his robe sleeves as he slid back to our train car undetected.

 

JAMES POTTER: was the fall of our scheme. It didn't help that I had placed him with Sirius- we all know how wild they get together. As soon as Peter and I gave him the thumbs-up, he'd taken it as the signal that our mission was accomplished, rather than to carry on. With great flourish, he ripped the cloak off of his tall frame and sprinted across the train, with two chocolate frogs in hand yelling, "MY DEAREST LILY FLOWER! WHERFORE ART THOU?" His infamously messy hair and glasses have been caked down with the goopy gelatin of a chocolate frog, but due to the victorious smirk on his handsome face, we all knew Severus Snape wasn't looking any better.

 

SIRIUS BLACK: is laughing next to me, trying to read over my should-  
*heyy guys its sirius hereeee and oh my god its been crazy here  
mcgonagall, my precious boo, is gonna looove this stor-*

 

Bloody hell, I think that sums up how Mr. Black here is feeling.

 

THE OUTCOME

 

PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL has just finished her ranting and raving about our "unacceptable behavior." Her face is tight and stern, and she's all-too-observant on the fact that I am using a blue ballpoint pen to write everything down in a muggle journal.

 

"It's typical of you lot to begin your mischievous antics before the school year has begun!" She has just said, staring daggers at Sirius and James. "Remus Lupin, I don't even know why you're here! Your mischief isn't as prominent as these two, and you're far too wise to get involved in their childish drama!" Ouch. Am I really that much of a buzzkill?  
Our punishments have been decided.

 

I will be on probation, which is hardly fair, given the fact that I was the mastermind of the whole debacle. Not that I'll be saying anything, which is pretty out of my character, I'm assuming.

 

JAMES POTTER is to clean the Trophy Room, which is purely idiotic because if he isn't transfixed by his reflection in the shiny gauntlets, he'll become intrigued and enraptured in fantasies of one of the Quidditch trophies being his own.

 

SIRIUS BLACK will be in charge of aiding Slughorn in cleaning up the Potions classroom, albeit there are no things to clean, given the fact that it's the beginning of the year and all.  
It appears that punishments will not deter our plans for the rest of the year. Interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

  
DATE: March the Fourth, 1973.  
YEAR: Second Year.  
LOCATION: Gryffindor Common Room. Hogwarts: School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
SUBJECT: The First Hookup.

 

This subject may be misleading, for typically I place the summarizing titles for my entries in later on. This isn't relevant to me (though I wish it wasn't the case, someone like me is destined to die alone. If the whole werewolf thing didn't throw people off, the ghastly scars riddling my body sure did).

 

This is Sirius Black's story, as he'd told us in the Common Room, about the first girl he'd ever kissed.

 

The boy has an image set up for himself, with the borderline-longish black hair that no one but me was allowed to touch ("Your hair is the only decent style I've seen since this year started, Remus. You're the only one I can trust with my own luscious locks!" Sirius had claimed, though my curly, mussed light brown hair was as bad, if not worse than James's.), and the oversized leather jacket that he is yet to grow into, if he bothers keeping it for that long, he had girls swooning at his feet. Given the fact that he laps up attention similar to a puppy, I and the rest of the Gryffindor lads were waiting for him to get with a girl.

 

Peter isn't exactly the best at bets, so he'd vehemently thought Sirius would pompously brag about kissing a Slytherin, which was wrong enough that it prevented me from betting at all.  
James and Lily had both bet twenty galleons in the pool that Sirius'd snog a Ravenclaw first, Lily because she is brilliant, and James because he was following her around like a lost toddler would follow their mother. Of course, Lily was right. She's outraged that she has to split the money with Potter. I was also assuming Ravenclaw- Sirius was anti-Slytherin and snogging a Gryffindor as his first kiss would hit him too close to home. And the only dateable Hufflepuff is Amos Diggory, and we all know Sirius doesn't swing that way. I knew I was going to be right with my Ravenclaw bet, but I still wouldn't bet my money on it, even if it meant a profit.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," Sirius had said with dramatized vigor, as if he expected us to be hanging with suspense, waiting earnestly for him to continue. "I have snogged someone- a RAVENCLAW, no less, before any of you even THOUGHT about doing it!"

 

REACTIONS

 

PETER: with disappointment and frustration, "Dammit! I lost my knuts !"

 

REMUS: with a dirty mind rolling, sniggers at Pettigrew's excellent word choice.

 

JAMES: with a defensive voice and lovey-dovey lisp, "I've thought about snogging Lil-"

 

LILY: with great exasperation and contempt, "POTTER!"

 

SIRIUS: with great obliviousness and surprising innocence, "Wait a second. What am I missing here?"

 

NOTABLE QUOTES

 

YOURS TRULY: "You MISSED Peter unwittingly making a dirty joke. SIRIUS-ly mate, I thought you would notice!"  
(Sirius let a smile overshadow his befuddled expression, and a wave of pride rolled over me, for whatever reason.)

 

JAMES: "I won so much monnnnney! Nyah, nyah, nyahnyah, nyah!" ("C'mon James, you have to tell him what you bet ON!" Says I, the Perpetrator.) "We bet that your first snog-session this year would be with a Ravenclaw!"

 

(Sirius smirked at his eager friend, then looked at me. "What house did you bet on, love? Gryffindor? Or God forbid, Slytherin!" The way he said "love" made my stomach flutter, I don't know why. "This is a pool of money I'd rather not dive into, Black. Like the stock market- too unpredictable." I replied snarkily. Sirius just laughed good-naturedly. "What in the bloody world is a stock market?")

 

LILY: "Potter here," she says with great hostility, "COPIED my bet, and now we have to split our earnings!" ("OH MY DEAREST PETAL!" James had cried. "YOU MAY HAVE MY SHARE IF YOU GIVE ME LOOOOOVE!" I'd covered my ears in his sudden yell. Ouch, that boy can really amplify his vocal chords.)

 

Sirius wasn't even mad that we made bets on his love life. In fact, his pride shone through his perfect, white teeth. That smile still burns through my mind, even though it has been just a few minutes since the ordeal.

 

Now, it's late.

 

We are all sitting by the fire in the Common Room, and I am the only one awake. It's amazing how in just a few seconds, everyone became fatigued. Lily, with her vibrant red hair and frown that seemed etched into her face, had hurried off to the girls dormitory, and Peter had followed suit, going to the bedrooms of the opposite gender.

 

James's glasses are reflecting the fireplace, and he's curled up in a warm, maroon blanket. Despite the fact that he's sucking his thumb, he looks as grand and elegant as he does when he's awake. His flaw may be his Shakespearean theatrics, but even so, he's an elk-like bloke.

 

Sirius is sharing a couch with me, and despite the fact that there is plenty of space around us, he curls up next to me. Eventually, when he collapses with exhaustion, he falls into my lap (not face-first, thank goodness, that would be too uncomfortable for me, but his inky, dark hair forms a halo between my crossed legs.).

 

Excuse me, but I have soft Sirius hair to pet and I need both hands.


	4. Chapter 4

  
DATE: August the Twenty-Eighth, 1973.  
YEAR: (Almost) Third Year.  
LOCATION: The Potter Household.  
SUBJECT: Teen Sleepover Movie.

 

Sometimes, things happen that don't let us see each other again.

 

PETER: Mr. Pettigrew has come down with a nasty case of mono- a muggle illness, I'm aware, but it's nasty enough that St. Mungo's doesn't have a cure for it. Because his family seems to disregard hygiene (or they're far too close-knit), they've been passing it back and forth like a Quaffle all vacation. The ball has been passed back to Peter now, so we can only hope Madame Pomfrey discovers a cure for it in Mandrakes and allows him to attend our sleepover. Because of Pete's illness, only James, Sirius, and I can attend this "slumber party".

 

REMUS: Parents who try to help their child through a furry little problem, which meant lots of experimentary potions to search for a werewolf cure. Believe me, I even tried to find something that would subdue the monster, which resulted in lots of days holed up in my basement (completely feral and/or with nasty potion side effects including growing green and purple hair everywhere, obtaining yellow eyes, and growing four and a half inches-though that may be, Merlin forbid, puberty).

 

SIRIUS: Poor lad. He's been all but tortured by the Cruciatus over break. Black seems more thin than ever, probably a measly ninety pounds. Clearly, he's stolen Regulus's hair products, for his black mane is more luscious than it was last I saw him, despite the fact that it's dusted from hastily thrown floo powder in an attempt to escape his parents unscathed. He's trying to look over my shoulder again, but I have a good five inches on him and he can't read while I'm standing with the journal all but pressed on my face. I should put a charm on this damned thing so I can only read it. ("I swear to Merlin, Remy, I saw my name! I must read what my greatest critic says about me!" Yells an exasperated Sirius. I reply with a "My name isn't Remy, Black." James rolls his eyes and says "Quit the flirting!" Sirius is sputtering something in a total different language now- perhaps French? I don't know whether to be flattered or offended, but I do know that I need to learn me a Romance language).

 

JAMES: has been stalking Miss Evans all summer. He hasn't been able to discover her home address thus far, thank goodness because that would be taking it too far on the obsession train, but he puts on his cloak and broomstick, and he follows her around when she takes a walk in the park, gets bullied by Petunia, and worst of all, talks to Snape ("I don't know why such a perfect, beautiful girl bothers with such a greasy, disgusting pig!" Sighs a lovestruck James. "Perhaps that's because she loves you so much she wants to send mixed signals," I reply sarcastically. Sirius punches me in the shoulder as his eyes light up. There is no difference between literal and figurative when it comes to James Potter thinking about Lily. Unless, of course, Evans rants and raves about her vivid hatred of the poor lad, in that case, she must be kidding, right?). There's a dopey smile on his face because he's thinking of his unrequited beloved.

 

WHAT WE TALK ABOUT

 

There is no awkward silence between us. It's as if we'd been speaking every single day over summer vacation. Sirius is the first to initiate a real conversation, for we don't want to hear James gush over his perfect Lilykins who really is out of his league.

 

Sirius: (with a great dramatic flourish) "REMUS darling, your hair has only gotten better! You must tell me your secret!"

 

James: (in a dreamy voice) "He's right, you know. The only person with better hair than you right now is Lily!"

 

Remus: (with great frustration, but a smugness because he's the only one who knows Yiddish) "Gay feifen ahfen yam!"

 

James: "What the Hell does that mean?"

 

Sirius: (rifles through Drek! The REAL Yiddish Your Bubbe Never Told You) "If I'm correct, which I always am, it means 'Go whistle on the ocean'...care to explain, Remus?"  
Remus: (with oozing sarcasm) "It means you're wasting your time, dumbass."

 

Our conversations continue like so, harmless, insulting banters that either Sirius or I win. James is always left in the dust, the poor chap. Whilst I'm a mix of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, Sirius is a mix of Gryffindor and Slytherin, both of the latters insinuating cleverness. James is plain Gryffindor through and through, all hasty decisions and blundering wit.  
Yet his ego is greater than mine or Sirius's combined, which is saying something because Sirius loves mirrors more than he loves snogging girls.

 

With a flick of his wand (and a haughty chin-upped glance in my direction), Sirius summoned a quill and parchment. "We have some pranks to plan, lads. And since Peter- that blithering idiot- cannot supply us with decent snacks, we will need to be more diligent than ever."

 

I swear to Merlin, every word he says is more dramatized than the last.

 

"Yes, gentlemen. And since Lupin here is too busy gossiping about us in his girls' handwriting, I guess it will leave me as scribe!" Proclaims an excited James.

 

Sirius glares at James. "No. I'll be scribe."

 

"No, me!"

 

"Nuh-uh James, ya big pansy. I will be the writer of the '73-'74 Marauders Bible."

 

"NO. I WILL DO THE BLOODY WRITING YOU BLOODY FUCKIN'-"

 

I intervene. "Shit, lads! I'll do the scribing! Calm the fuck down!"

 

I hate having to cut off my writing like this, but I must begin planning-  
*hey it's sirius remus must go he has shit to get done.*  
GODDAMNIT SIRIUS YOU MUST STOP FUCKING WRITING IN THIS SHIT MAN SOMETIMES YOURE SUCH A DICK Okay I think I should calm down now.

 

THE FINAL PRANK LIST

 

1) Drop stinkbombs made of eggs (from the kitchen) on unsuspecting Slytherins (all First-Years except for Severus. He'll be included as well). According to Sirius and James, it's an "oddly muggle" way of doing things. Forgive me for thinking that wizards won't expect non-wizarding tactics.

 

2) Get a feline that is near-identical to McGonagall, charm it to "grade papers" (i.e. cast something on pens and parchment). Let it roam free around campus with a strict, no-nonsense attitude until someone notices. Maybe let it be a normal cat and confuse everyone.

 

3) Cast spells on Slughorn's cauldrons to prevent anyone in Potions (except for me, James, Sirius, Peter, and Lily) from making a mixture that doesn't cause a minor explosion.

 

4) Put the Aging Curse (set on "PUBERTY") on Amos Diggory, James's rival in obtaining Lily's affections.

 

5) Give Snape some nose-growing candies. If it's possible to make his nose grow any bigger, we'd like to see it.

 

6) Slip some Polyjuice Potion into an unsuspecting student's drink, turning them into Mr. Severus Snape.

The rest of these plans have been deemed confidential by Mr. Black. I'm afraid they cannot be written here.  
***fuck ya they have mate! it ain't gonna be written down in this goddamn journal.* ******


	5. Chapter 5

  
DATE: October the Thirty-First, 1973.  
YEAR: Third Year.  
LOCATION: The Shrieking Shack. Forbidden Forest.  
SUBJECT: No More Secrets.

 

Given the fact that I'm a freak, it's a given that Halloween has always been costume-free. Do I really need one, given the fact that I'm a monster? That scars are all over my scrawny face and my body is always sore beyond belief?

 

Tonight, a full moon has been scheduled. I feel it in my bones. My body is tensed and stressed, my jaw is nearly impossible to unclench. The terseness of my actions is not just from dread, but from my body preparing itself for its painful metamorphosis.

 

The Great Hall's doom and gloom decorations don't help. It's breakfast and already the sky is dark and thundery, jack o' lanterns adorning the tables like cheesy place markers. The Gryffindor Halloween party is to be held in the Common Room tonight, hosted by the ever-so-charismatic Prewett twins. Of course, I will not be able to attend, to see the fantastic costumes everyone has conspired about for a good month and three days. Despite it being a muggle classic, no one is dressing up in a costume of a werewolf. In the non-magical world, those monsters are a legend to be appreciated, spooky stories told by the campfire underneath a full moon. Teen romance movies, even. I wish that it was that simple in the universe I reside in.

 

In the wizarding world, werewolves are seen for what they really are. Freaks. Monsters. Abominable creations that are only there to scuff a perfectly shiny world. Simply by associating with my closest friends, I am burdening them. I am tainting them with an abhorrent scent, the scent of a horrid creature clawing the human form outside with the talons sharpened so that they're more piercing than knives.

 

I don't deserve them. James or Peter or Sirius. My fellow Gryffindors. Albus Dumbledore or Minerva McGonagall. Hell, even Slughorn is better than me, the old creep.  
This sort of self-pity only happens to me in the event of a full moon threatening to pass. Any other day, I'm comfortably numb. I'm Remus Lupin- gay, tweenaged boy, werewolf wizard attending Hogwarts.

 

Merlin, I'm too young to be writing all of this bullshit. I need to lighten up. Maybe Sirius is right, I'm too much of a downer (for someone who is popular in his House, does well in classes, and comes up with a majority of pranks to pull on people). I'm too brooding, they say. Too cautious.

 

If you're a monster, you have to be that way.

 

I can't bring myself to eat the bacon on my plate, but I do dive into my chocolate muffin covered in chocolate hazelnut spread earnestly, chugging my chocolate milk as if it's a strong liquor. I'm a chocolate kind of person, in case you haven't noticed.

 

James looks totally disgusted by my food choice right now. The lad has never been fond of cocoa powder, and always holds to his hatred of the stuff, though he is impartial to the "delights of white chocolate and it's sugary delectableness," as he so eloquently put it ("Remus, you don't understand! It's Lily's favorite sweet, so I must indulge in it!" I don't tell him that Lily is my study partner, and she adamantly hates the taste of white chocolate, telling James she likes it only to "make the bastard suffer." I will pretend that I don't see her secretively gnawing at the white chocolates James gives her between classes. The white chocolate Amos Diggory provides remains untouched except by her hungry dorm mate Alice Fortescue. She brags about having the same first name as a woman in America who taught for women's suffrage. That country wouldn't know feminism if it slapped them in the face, I don't understand why it detests monarchy like so. Their democratic system is more dysfunctional then helpful, in my opinion.).

 

Amos Diggory. Now that I've brought him up, I may as well mention the great envy I feel towards Lily Evans. James may be incredibly attractive, but Amos Diggory literally made me stop in my tracks when I saw him in my First Year at Hogwarts.

 

Well, James did too. Let's not delve into the disaster involving Mr. Lupin having a little crush on Mr. Potter for the first week of first year at Hogwarts (before Mr. Lupin realized that it was hopeless to love such a prat in a non-platonic way, because any male to James Potter is immediately in the friend zone, minus Snape).

 

Amos Diggory. I don't know where to start with describing him. He looks like an endearing melody, a piano symphony you hear on a Sunday morning cartoon introducing your favorite cartoon character. He's like a furry dog resting on your lap as you sip Earl Grey tea and read Nietzsche on your flat's balcony, with hair the color of lightly milky coffee and cheekbones cut straight out of marble. Plus, he's so, incredibly hot.

 

And so, incredibly out of my league. I'm a bedhead, mussed all over. Or a cat's scratching post, with my scarred-over face. Like a staticky radio station playing elevator music and white noise.

 

I wish I didn't have this furry little problem. Then, at least, I'd stand a chance with the second-most attractive person at Hogwarts. I'm scared to write the first one's name- he seems to always know when he's being talked or written about. Though I feel no need to explain who he is, with his long black hair and big gray eyes and perfect cheekbo-  
Amos Diggory is looking my way. He's coming over oh my Merlin he's coming over he's making eye contact AHHH hyperventilating ooh ooh ooh

 

OUR CONVERSATION

 

Amos: with a charismatic voice like a cat's purr. "Hello, Mr. Lupin."

 

Remus: stuttering unattractively. "Oh, uh-hi Amos. H-how are you?

 

(Sirius Black was sniggering at my obvious discomfort. "Kish mich in tukhes, Sirius!" He took out his Yiddish profanity guide and placed a hand on his chest in false hurt.)

 

Amos: looking amused and confident and gorgeous. "I was wondering if you would be attending the interhouse Halloween party tonight. It's going to be held in the Great Hall."

 

Remus: looking deeply sorrowful because it's a full moon. "Sorry, mate. I won't be able to attend any party tonight. I have uh-to visit my friend in Hogsmeade."

 

Amos: gives me an enchantingly attractive smile. "Well, I would love to go on a date with you sometime, Remus. How about the next time we all go into Hogsmeade as a class?"  
(Sirius chokes on his drink. I elbow him. Hard.)

 

Remus: with a gigantic grin on his face. "That would be excellent, Amos. I'll see you then."

 

(Amos saunters away back to the Hufflepuff table. He gives a warm smile to one of his friends at the table, who squeals and gives him a high-five. Sirius is looking at me funny.)  
Sirius: with an expressionless look on his face. "Well, what an eventful breakfast, yeah?"

 

Remus: gives Sirius a pointed glare. "Yeah, mate. How...eventful."

 

I got up from the table in a huff, leaving an obnoxious Sirius Black behind. I hate his stupid perfect hair and stupid chiseled face. Stupid, stupid, stupid...

 

TEN THINGS I HATE ABOUT SIRIUS

 

1) He's out of everyone's league. And he knows it.

 

2) He refuses to admit that maybe if he didn't hate his family so much, he'd probably be in Slytherin right now.

 

3) His self-entitled attitude baffles me.

 

4) Everything about his behavior baffles me.

 

5) I don't go a day without thinking about him. And if my mind is void of his presence,  
he's always around to remind me he's there.

 

6) His leather jacket is obnoxiously large.

 

7) He's obnoxiously fake-punk-rock.

 

8) He's obnoxious in general.

 

9) He's absolutely perfect. And he's aware of that.

10) And I can't think of a tenth damn reason. 

 

Classes are over.

 

Dinner has commenced but I am not there. Instead, I am confined in the dank Shrieking Shack, all cemented walls and hard linoleum floor.

 

I'm hungry.

 

Being in the forest should be isolated enough, but Dumbledore was paranoid enough to give me a cage all to myself.

 

My clothes are filthy. I don't wear my robes here, for sliding down a tree root whilst being at risk of being snatched by the Whomping Willow (who has become familiar with me enough to let me pass, but not enough to be friendly) is impractical. Instead, I'm wearing my least favorite shirt, a white graphic tee depicting a deli I've never been to, and some blue jeans that have bunched up weirdly since I've grown a few inches.

 

Clothes I won't miss- for I'll tear them up as a werewolf for sure.

 

I must put the journal away in a drawer now. I will not let myself destroy it.

 

...

 

Something horrible has happened.

 

Six and a half minutes before I was planned to turn, Peter, Sirius, and James appear in the shrieking shack, looking battered up by the Whomping Willow.  
"Hey, mate!" James said, looking at me goofily. "Nice hangout!"

 

Their smiles all drooped when they saw the fearful, feral expression on my face. I began to ramble. "What the fuck are you guys doing here? It's not safe...it's NOT. SAFE. You have to leave. You have to-"

 

"Calm down, Remus!" Exclaimed a baffled Sirius. "Are you on something?"

 

The very thought of me being high is comical. Drugs are abhorrent. Sirius knows how against them I am. How I'd never adulterated my body any further than it already has been.  
"No, no. God no. You lot have to leave though. Hurry!" I reached over to shoo Peter first. He was smallest. He'd be submissive.

 

Sirius grabbed my shoulder, and it was nearly impossible to contain the guttural growl rumbling up my throat. His hand struggled to grasp my new muscles poking through my oversized shirt. "Merlin's beard, Remus! Your eyes are turning..."

 

We've all read up on werewolves. All wizarding families have. They all know the stages of metamorphosis for werewolves.

 

"Lads, we need to get out of here." Sirius said gravely.

 

That's the last thing I remember, before pain made my body creak. Hair seemed to grow out of my pores as I got bigger.

 

And bigger.

 

 **And BIGGER.**

 

I can only assume a howl released from my throat as I sniffed out my victims. The beast in me is like that. Cold. Calculating. It would be too easy to sniff James's floral aura, and Sirius's spicy cologne. Peter would smell of warmed milk, I'm sure. Or cottony meadows. Or lavender.

 

But it was Sirius's cologne that caught my attention, and with a deep roar, I had descended upon my first victim.

 

I can never forgive myself.

 

I'm in the hospital wing, but I'm not even in my own bed like I am supposed to be. Instead, I am perfectly fine, and I'm sitting on the windowsill, watching over three sleeping figures in their own dreams.

 

All of them, injured. By me.

 

Sirius is the worst off. He won't even look at me. Because he hasn't woken up yet. It's been ten hours since I knocked him unconscious, and I'm sure that I hurt him badly enough that he'll never be my friend again.

 

Dumbledore had found us. He'd only meant to collect me, providing clothes and comfort for my struggles, and instead, he'd had to apparate back to campus and summon McGonagall and Pomfrey. The look on his face was pure horror. I'm stunned at the fact that I haven't been expelled yet. I'm too much of a danger to be here.

 

James has already woken up, and he's being too forgiving. ("Hey!" He called out to me, from where I was on my perch. "It's alright, mate. I'll have an awesome scar to show Lily sometime, and I can give her a far-fetched story about how I defeated a mysterious werewolf in the Forbidden Forest on Halloween night!" I am relieved by his kindness, but also horrified. That boy has no sense of danger. He's basically throwing himself in front of a train by associating with me).

 

Peter has awoken too. He was a bit more tentative at first, which was rather humbling. I wasn't as cool as James thought I was. There's a tiny cut on Peter's forehead where I had hit him. It could be confused with a pockmark, but the concussion that followed was pretty hard to disguise.

 

And Sirius Black, because of my damned monstrosity, and his damned intoxicating cologne, is in a coma. And I am waiting for his eyes to open.  
His eyes flutter open. I'm at his side in a split second. "Oh my Merlin, Sirius, are you alright?"

 

"R-Remus..." He groaned, taking in a massive sniff. He flinched at my wide eyes. "Get away from me..."

 

My heart sank as I slithered away. "I understand why you wouldn't want to associate with me anymore, Sirius. I'm so, incredibly sorry."

 

"DAMMIT REMUS. I DIDN'T MEAN GET AWAY FROM ME FOREVER, YOU NEED TO GET YOUR PRETTY BUTT IN THE SHOWER YOU SMELL LIKE WHAT I IMAGINE THE INSIDE OF MY FATHER'S ASSHOLE SMELLS LIKE!" He shrieked, getting up from his bed, hobbling over to me and giving me a one-armed hug. The other hand is being pinched over his fantastically-shaped nose.  
"Y-yeah, mate. Sorry."

 

And I left, and as soon as no one could see me, I urged my sore legs into a run, only stopping when I reached my dorm room and hid underneath my covers. Alone.


End file.
